


your eyes tell me how you want me

by nomind



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe, F/M, Infidelity, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22104820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomind/pseuds/nomind
Summary: She blinks up at him, frowning. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounds shrill, and a little breathless, even to her own ears. She cringes slightly, willing her body to calm down, trying to take in the man in front of her while simultaneously not forgetting the list of things she has to take care of before the party starts that’s on a constant loop in the back of her mind.“You look like you ‘bout to pass out, mami.” There’s an intensity to his voice and the way he’s looking at her that Beth can’t quite name.--This entire fic grew out of me literally finishing reading through the entire Brio tag + a note buried in my notes app that says “but what if Beth WAS fucking the bounce house guy?”In conclusion, I am DESPERATE
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 24
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

Beth prides herself on knowing herself well. After four decades, she doesn’t often surprise herself. She knows herself, is lucky enough to be surrounded by people who know her deeply – God bless Ruby, her rock, her soulmate, her sister for all intents and purposes, who will only need to look at her for a second to communicate her thoughts some days, that’s how in sync they are at this point – and she is comfortable with most aspects of herself. You know, as long as she doesn’t think about how much of her life revolves around pleasing other people and living up to their expectations of her. But that’s just a minor detail she is willing to overlook for the sake of inner peace. 

Beth knows herself. Beth knows the life she’s living. Not many surprises lay on this suburban road, filled with driving her kids to swimming lessons, searching Pinterest for cute Halloween costume ideas, making lunches, attending PTA activities and remembering to send a card to Dean’s college roommate’s wedding anniversary or else she’ll be the one hearing about it. Which is why, with Kenny’s birthday coming up, she expects to already know exactly how the day will go, weeks before it has happened. She will push herself to host the perfect birthday party for her dear son, make endless small-talk with the parents of however many friends he will beg her to let him invite, spend hours in the kitchen baking treats and of course, an appropriately-themed birthday cake, and ignore the fact that her husband will be outside playing Fun Dad, goofing around with the kids, making eyes at the PTA moms, and having a beer or four, while she’s in the kitchen preparing food for Kenny’s entire class. She can feel the headache she’ll suffer already.

Yet one thing Beth overlooks is Dean’s ability to thwart her plans. Their marriage has gotten predictable – they don’t touch anymore, they don’t talk anymore, not really, not about anything that matters. It’s always about the kids or about Dean’s frustrations about co-workers or his mom, or when Beth feels the need to vent to him about the latest PTA rumor or craft craze. Dean doesn’t know her, Beth is aware. She’s beyond the point of caring, having grieved the loss of her marriage years ago, one late Wednesday night on Ruby’s couch, three wines deep, looking lost, faraway into the distance, quietly admitting to her best friend that her marriage was nothing but a shell of what it was supposed to be. 

Ruby had looked at her with so much compassion and love that Beth had cried, not for her marriage and all it didn’t live up to be, but for the one love she could always count on, knowing her best friend would always have her back. Knowing that the love of her life was not the man who came home every night, not recognizing the bone-tiredness his wife carried after a long day of cleaning up everyone else’s messes, kicking back with a beer and asking her if she’d gotten dinner started yet. No, the love of her life was the same girl who’d make sure her and Annie got invitations to her family’s Thanksgiving dinner each year, knowing their mother wouldn’t bother staying sober or actually cook something for them, the same girl whose mere presence was enough to make Beth feel a little more grounded and a little less like her life was getting away from her, whose quiet jokes could make Beth cackle unattractively and spark a joy she wishes she could carry in her heart every day of her life. 

So who cares that she and her husband are completely estranged from one another? She has Ruby, and she has Annie, who, while always getting on her nerves, will forever hold a sweet spot in Beth’s heart, ever since the day her mom introduced her to that tiny baby she carried in her arms, at that point still somewhat lovingly. Point is, she has her people. She has people who know her and love her, so what does it matter that her husband doesn’t really know her? What does it matter that Beth stopped caring about Dean long enough ago to forget how selfish he really is, deep-down, buried between his Fun Dad routine and loud jokes? She’s got meaningful connections, and that’s all that matters.

So when she finds the texts and the pictures of some young, thin thing on his phone, and finally recognizes his shifty behavior when he comes home one night after working late, smelling like one of those Victoria Secret perfumes Beth can’t stand, for what it is, she’s mostly just disappointed in herself for not seeing this one coming. Of course Dean is cheating on her. Who did she think she married? Did she really expect Dean, of all people, to remain faithful to her? She’s been ignoring the way his touches linger on the shoulders of some of the PTA moms at the annual barbecue the school hosts long enough, or the way he’d tease young waitresses whenever they go out for breakfast with the kids whenever he proclaimed that Boland Motors was having a good year, Bethie, you’ll see! 

The news numbs her somewhat. There is a hollow feeling in her chest that won’t leave, no matter how much she tried to focus on her kids or Annie’s jokes or crafting the perfect animal-themed lunches. She doesn’t confront Dean and she doesn’t tell Ruby or Annie. She can’t. The words feel too heavy inside of her mouth, tasting too much of shame and failure, too much like it was her fault. She knows Ruby would fiercely try to get that idea out of her head and that Annie would never judge her for it, but she can’t help but feel like this only solidifies the idea for her sister and her best friend that she made a mistake in picking out her husband. That she failed in choosing her spouse. Beth knows she did, has known for years, has done anything she could to hush that feeling, insistently louder as it’s gotten over the years. It’s her fault. She’s the one who accepted his proposal all those years ago, believing him when he said he’d make her the happiest woman alive.

So she tries to move on, tries to – not _forgive_ him, per se, but just… keep going. She has four kids to think about after all. Still, something inside of Beth has crumbled. Maybe, all those years, she did have some hope one day her marriage would turn around. Like maybe one day she’d have the courage to suggest couple’s therapy, and he wouldn’t laugh her suggestion away. Hope that one day he would show up for her. Be the spouse Beth has dreamed she’d have, years ago, back when she was working at the Dairy Queen and spending her breaks fantasizing about growing old with someone who loves her and who would take care of her. So Beth does what she always does – she swallows it all and continues living life like nothing’s wrong. She’ll continue to play the game. She’ll be the devoted mother – her babies have done nothing wrong and do not deserve a detached, unhappy mother, which is why she tries her best to be a good mom for them, why she doesn’t allow herself to collapse.

It is for that reason and for that reason only that she decides to go all-out for Kenny’s birthday, despite knowing it will tire her out even more and she’s running on empty as it is. But there’s the added benefit that organizing a party for thirty-two eleven-year-olds will keep her too busy to really think about her life or the fact that her husband doesn’t want her anymore and would gamble away their life together to fuck some sweetly-scented naïve twenty-something, whose naked body with its distinct lack of curves keeps flashing in Beth’s mind. So she rents a cotton candy machine, a popcorn machine, _and_ a bounce house, in addition to all the baked goods she’s planning on making. It’s a lot of work, setting it all up, making sure the machines are delivered on time and that she’s there when the bounce house guy shows up to get the house ready before the party, no matter how exhausted she is at this point. 

She barely has time to tell the guy when he drops off the bounce house where to set it up, such a nervous wreck over the amount of cupcakes she still has to finish making before the guests start showing up. So she doesn’t really register how intimidating he looks with the neck tattoo he’s sporting until he’s right in front of her, chuckling, shaking his head, telling her to “breathe, ma,” after she’s gone and rambled at him about where she wants it, or at least that’s what she thinks she did. She isn’t sure at this point, her lack of sleep catching up with her at the most opportune time. Her brain doesn’t fully process what he’s saying, or what he’s referring to, until a hand reaches out to her shoulder, stilling her frazzled self. His touch feels hot and for a second something sparks inside of her belly, something that feels like longing. She quickly shakes her head, trying to rid herself of that thought. It’s ridiculous, just because she hasn’t been touched by anyone beside her children, Ruby, Annie, or Stan, with his occasional hugs and loving back pats, doesn’t mean she should be this affected.

She blinks up at him, frowning. “What are you doing?” Her voice sounds shrill, and a little breathless, even to her own ears. She cringes slightly, willing her body to calm down, trying to take in the man in front of her while simultaneously not forgetting the list of things she has to take care of before the party starts that’s on a constant loop in the back of her mind. 

“You look like you ‘bout to pass out, mami.” There’s an intensity to his voice and the way he’s looking at her that Beth can’t quite name. For some reason it brings her back to a moment long gone, reminding her of Federico, the guy she slept with twice in college when her and Dean broke up for a summer. They’d met at a party Stan’s fraternity hosted, and the instant attraction she felt towards him left her breathless, with his dark curls and low chuckle and the way he leaned over the pool table to take a shot, which she observed from the other side of the room, thinking she was invisible. But after he played pool with his friends, he made his way over to her, with a look in his eye that told her she wasn’t invisible, after all. 

It was the loudness of the attraction she felt that caused her to throw caution into the wind and just, fuck him. So she had sex with him despite not knowing really him besides his pool skills, something very un-Beth, which was probably the last surprising thing she ever did. They’d had some seriously good sex, sex that revealed to Beth that contrary to what she’d always believed, she actually was loud in bed, if the sex was good enough. But then he’d disappeared to go study abroad for a semester and somewhere in the fall she and Dean got back together and she slowly forgot about those two spectacular nights, settling for a life of distinctly not so loud sex.

Regardless, she doesn’t have time to think about decades-old sex memories or the heavy way the Bounce House Guy is looking at her. “Right, well, I don’t have time for this. Could you please just set up the bounce house over there and go? I’ve got so much left to do and standing here talking to you isn’t gonna help me get everything done in time,” she responds, while stepping away from him so his hand falls off her shoulder. She crosses her arms in front of her chest, hoping the stern look she’s giving him is convincing. It’s the look that works on her six-year-old, why shouldn’t it work on him? The guy’s eyes flick towards her chest briefly and Beth rolls her eyes. You’d think someone you’re paying would have the decency to not ogle, but apparently that’s too much to ask. He’s nodding though, and making his way to what she can only assume is the deflated bounce house, telling her he’s got it while he already has his back turned. Good, she nods to herself. That being settled, she makes her way back to the kitchen, trying to not let the thought of how much she has to do paralyze her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's favorite Bounce House Guy returns to... retrieve his bounce house.  
> Yes, that's what happens in this chapter.

It’s about five hours later when, as Kenny is blowing out his birthday candles, the slim form of the Bounce House Guy appears in front of her again. She’s frowning, not sure what to make of him showing up while she clearly told him not to show until four. “Who’s that guy?” The judgement is clear on Dean’s face, as he looks from Beth to the man with the impressive eagle tattoo on his neck. “He dropped off the bounce house, I’ll go see what he wants,” she mutters in response, taking in the whole of his body. Fuck, it’s like she’s twenty years old and laying eyes on Federico for the first time all over again. Their eyes meet and without looking away she excuses herself, hoping but not counting on that for once, Dean will make himself useful by sorting out the cake. 

Making her way towards him, she realizes she doesn’t even know his name. He’s looking at her meaningfully, smirk tugging at his lips, like he knows where her head’s at. She passes him, hoping he’ll follow her inside. She can feel his presence at her back, which she purposely tries to ignore as she enters her bedroom, pushing down any thoughts of sexual attraction, telling herself she’s got no business entertaining such notions. 

“Why are you here?” She can hear the hostility in her own voice, too late to try and tone it down. He laughs, but the sound is hollow. She turns around, surprised at the coldness that meets her as she returns his gaze.

“Whatchu mean, why am I here? You told me to be back at three. It’s three. I’m back,” he deadpans. He’s standing near her dresser, eyes roaming all over the picture frames that decorate it. His shoulders – broad shoulders – are tense, his entire body tout with energy. Her eyes widen as she realizes her mistake and she flinches at how harsh he sounds, swallowing, suddenly realizing it’s just her and a man she doesn’t know who’s clearly pissed off at her in an enclosed space. What with the noise from the party outside, she’s sure no one can hear their exchange either. She tries to placate him, hands stretched out in what she’s hoping is a calming gesture. Her voice trembles a little as she apologizes, annoyed at herself for inviting him in. She’d rather have those stuck-up PTA moms judge her for fighting with the Bounce House Guy outside than whatever is gonna happen here, if he stays angry.

“I thought I told you four. I meant four o’clock, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to waste your time or accuse you of anything. Um, if it’s not too much trouble, could you come back later? I’m having a party with children and their parents.” The impatience seems to fade a little from his features, but he’s shaking his head, sighing. He seems to chew over her request, looking at her, trying to gage… something, she doesn’t know. 

His eyes move away and she can feel herself breathe again, forcing the air out of her lungs through pursed lips, so it comes faster. She feels like she needs more oxygen than she usually does, like he’s taking all the air out of the room, filling the space with himself. Like he’s taking over the space.

“This your husband?” He looks up at her, and it takes her a minute to notice he’s holding a picture frame in his hand. His voice has deepened, the look in his eye significant yet still unreadable.

Beth nods, her voice not cooperating. The way he’s looking at her is a little too intense, the smirk on his face not helping her one bit in figuring out what he’s thinking.

“He a good husband? Treat you right?” She blinks. What kind of question is that? She doesn’t even know this guy.

“Yeah—I gue—what? Why does that matter?” He scoffs, like her question is ridiculous. “Oh trust me baby, it matters. Woman like you, needs to be treated right. Something tells me this guy doesn’t know he’s got himself a queen.”

A blush spreads on her face, she can feel it, and not for the first time Beth curses her body for how easily it flushes. “You got all that from a picture?” It’s all she can think of to say, trying to ignore what him calling her baby does to her, the words stumbling out of her mouth clumsily.

He licks his lips, quiet for a moment. 

“So, does he?” His gaze doesn’t waver, taking in her face as he still holds the picture frame. She can’t keep returning his look though, her eyes leaving his, focusing on the floor instead. It’s too much. It’s too much, the way he’s looking at her, the way he’s prodding at the sorest of wounds, the memory of that fucking VS perfume so fresh she swears she can smell it, still. Her avoidance of the question surely should tell him all he needs to know, though she doesn’t understand why he’s asking in the first place.

“So, what? He sleeps around on you?” He asks after a minute, his voice light, tinged with amusement, like he doesn’t really entertain it as an option. She feels her throat close up, and hates herself as the shame claws at her throat and the tears she hasn’t allowed herself to spill feel hot and way too close to the surface. Now is not the time to lose it all over a man she doesn’t love, she knows this. Now there’s an enigmatic man whose presence compels her attention like nothing ever has standing in front of her, and he’s watching her, wetting his lips. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what she’s admitting through her lack of response, her body cowering as she tries her best not to fully give in to the urge to shrink herself and hide.

There’s a heavy silence between them, but Beth can taste the lust on her tongue, still, despite the hurt that resurfaces with his question. She knows this is happening, she wants it to happen, he wants it to happen, it’s not a question of _if_ , it’s a question of _how_. How will he fuck her, with that raw, magnetic look in his eyes, desire so easy to trace in the way his eyes move all over her body, the way his breath comes quicker than before, the way he seems to hold on tight to the picture frame to restrain his hands from touching her. He stares at her, mouth opening, his bottom lip jutting out, and damn it, if she doesn’t want to suck and bite all over it. 

But the image of Dean fucking somebody else, not wanting her, not wanting her so much that he went elsewhere stains her thoughts. Surely, she must be imagining his attraction to her. This must be her brain trying to protect itself by projecting her own lust on this handsome man. Because it doesn’t make sense. Not to Beth. How does a man _this_ fine wind up in her life, looking like that, calling her baby, flirting with her like that? 

Taking a big gulp of air, she sighs, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He must have some sort of milf fetish, she assumes. Or maybe she looks like his ex whom he can’t get over, and she’s the next best thing. Something. Something to explain why this tatted up, massively attractive man who probably has the attention of every straight woman in his vicinity anywhere he goes can’t keep his eyes off of Beth. His captivating look, his confident aura and the easy way he smiles at her have her wishing there was no shoe. But she knows there’s a shoe. There’s always a shoe. Her life can’t be this. Attractive, younger men don’t look at her like that. Like she’s desirable. Like they wanna hear every word that’s coming out of her mind. Like what she has to say actually fascinates them. Like she’s the queen he just suggested she is.

Suddenly there’s a hand touching her face softly, stroking from her cheekbone to her chin dimple. She returns his gaze, the question visible on her face. “You still with me?” he asks, his voice mellow, kind, his hand repeating the movement. She feels her face heat up, stammering an apology. Looking into his eyes, she feels like he’s swallowing her whole, and slowly but surely, in his gaze, she can feel that voice inside her mind telling her this isn’t real fade into the background, until all she can think about is how badly she wants him. 

There is a quiet tension between them, so strong it’s almost bursting, and Beth feels like she’s gonna combust soon. The moment drags on, the way they’re looking at each other so enthralling, so commanding, that she struggles to breathe normally. And then, finally –

“Your husband is the dumbest motherfucker I’ve ever met.” 

The conviction in his voice is strong, the fury in his eyes lighting her up inside, and then he’s moving into her space, gently cradling a hand on her jaw, and mercifully licking into her mouth. He kisses her desperately, like he’s been thinking about it, like he’s been contemplating how he wants her, like he can’t get enough of her. Beth takes a stuttering breath, and lets herself be kissed like she’s been needing for so long. She doesn’t understand this, doesn’t understand what’s happening, doesn’t understand him, but the way his tongue feels in her mouth as he, shit, as he fucks her mouth with it has her moaning. She knows she sounds wanton, can feel the need for him in her bones, can’t make sense of what’s causing this attraction but she can’t bring herself to care, not when he’s sucking and licking and biting his way into her mouth so good, one hand stroking her face, another entangled in her hair.

She lets herself sigh into his mouth, clinging to his lips. She knows she has to stop this soon, knows she has to return to the party, have a slice of the birthday cake she worked so hard to finish on time, smile and mingle with the PTA parents, and pretend to laugh at her husband’s jokes like she doesn’t know he’s sending dick pics to someone technically young enough to be his daughter. 

But now? Now Beth is sucking on the plumpest bottom lip she’s ever felt between her lips, which, holy mother, makes him _moan_. She’s only human, her knees weakening at the sound of his moans. She bites down gently, nibbling on his bottom lip, then places little kisses all over his mouth, retreating her face each time, watching fascinatedly as he chases her lips again, and again, no matter how many times she pulls this trick, before moving in again and letting herself be absolutely ravaged by him. It’s all she can do to just hold on for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart is absolutely melting at your sweet comments! I really appreciate them & I've noticed in general that this seems to be a very kind, supportive fandom, going off of the way I've seen people interact with fic on here. Which is so amazing! I'm so here for it!   
> Thank you all so much for your support as I dipped my toe in fic writing for the first time in ages. I low-key really enjoyed writing this so maybe there will be more contributions from me to the fandom.

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I am rusty. Oh well. Desperation is a true motivator. I haven't written fic in years, my apologies for any mistakes and the level of OOC the characters are. I didn't exactly nail the Brio chemistry the way I wanted to, but it's a start. I miiiight write more Brio in the future, we'll see. If there's anything else I should have tagged, let me know!
> 
> Hopefully someone somewhere, with a Brio craving as strong as mine, got some joy out of this.
> 
> Ps. The title is from The Pointer Sisters’ “Jump”, because yes, I did watch Love, Actually again this Christmas.


End file.
